


Cat Nap

by 2babyturtles



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cat, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Johnlock, Fluff, Gen, Platonic Soulmates, Sweet, petlock, possible johnlock - Freeform, read it how you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:49:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12098076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2babyturtles/pseuds/2babyturtles
Summary: John makes his way slowly across the room to stare down at the tabby, a small smile on his face. Mrs. Hudson continues on at Sherlock, pushing herself onto her toes to gain a bit of height. “I didn’t bring it in to the flat, Sherlock, it came in by itself! It was a stray and it came inside and I couldn’t just shove it out! I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just getting a bowl for some water, all mine are in the wash.”





	Cat Nap

Usually, Sherlock and John wake to the noon sun pouring in their windows. Today, however, they woke to the sound of clinking ceramic and… _meowing?_ Stepping out of his room and rubbing his eyes, Sherlock discovers Mrs. Hudson crouching in the living room. Her face is turned away and he can only see that she’s looking at something on the floor.

“Mrs. Hudson, you know I won’t take clients before ten,” he grumbles reaching for the cup of tea she’s already set out.

“Oh, Sherlock, this isn’t a client. It’s a cat!” Standing to face him, Mrs. Hudson moves to reveal an orange tabby, sitting on the floor of 221B.

“A cat? Why would you let a cat into our flat?” His shouting must wake John because the former army doctor totters into the hall.

“Why am I awake right now?” he asks, his voice still thick with sleep and his eyes bleary.

“Mrs. Hudson’s cracked,” Sherlock replies bitterly. “She’s brought a cat into the flat.”

John makes his way slowly across the room to stare down at the tabby, a small smile on his face. Mrs. Hudson continues on at Sherlock, pushing herself onto her toes to gain a bit of height. “I didn’t bring it in to the flat, Sherlock, it came in by itself! It was a stray and it came inside and I couldn’t just shove it out! I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just getting a bowl for some water, all mine are in the wash.”

Sherlock glares back at her but doesn’t respond, crossing his arms angrily. As his eyes find the cat again, it’s clear he’s more grumpy to have been woken than to find a cat in the flat. “It better not have fleas,” he mutters.

John has been staring for several minutes now and finally crouches to rub one of the cat’s ears. “Aren’t you a cutie?” he asks playfully, with that sort of funny tone people use with pets and children. “Yes, you are, look at you. You’re such a good kitty.”

Sighing, Sherlock rolls his eyes and cocks his shoulders at John. “It’s an animal,” he insists. “It doesn’t understand English.”

“Awe, you don’t know that,” John coos, rubbing the cat’s belly as it rolls onto its back. “Look, he likes me!”

“He?”

John flashes an incredulous glance at Sherlock. “Yes,” he remarks, gesturing at the cat’s underside. “I thought that much was obvious.”

Sherlock shrugs. “I didn’t look,” he sniffs.

“Well, I think he’ll fit in just fine,” Mrs. Hudson insists, a proud smile on her face.

“How can he fit in with us? He doesn’t understand any words. How is a human supposed to fit in with an animal?” Sherlock practically shouts, throwing his arms up in disgust. He throws himself onto his knees beside John and examines the cat with a stern glare. “Watch. Hello, cat. You’re a dumb cat and we don’t want you here,” he announces.

“Now you just look silly,” John laughs, pushing himself back to his feet and moving to the kitchen.

“That’s because it’s an animal and it’s too stupid to possibly understand human sp-“ Before Sherlock can complete the sentence, the cat’s right forepaw darts out suddenly and swipes Sherlock across the nose. With its claws tucked carefully away, the touch is more startling than anything else, but the effect on Sherlock is tremendous. “You…I…you couldn’t possibly know what…”

Mrs. Hudson laughs heartily and John smiles as he watches. “See?” he says. “Best not to be too cocky. Shouldn’t that sort of information have been in your mind palace?”

“Mind palace!” Sherlock shouts, leaping to his feet. The tabby takes the opportunity to get away, and makes a quick run for Sherlock’s chair, curling up in the seat normally occupied by the detective. Mrs. Hudson also takes the opportunity, and makes her way downstairs with a quick wink back at John. “I must know something about cats,” he continues, speaking quickly.

“Well, off you pop then,” John replies, beaming. “Let me know what you find out.”

“I can’t start yet. Shouldn’t we…I dunno. Feed it?” He glances at the cat and somehow doesn’t seem to mind that it’s curled up in his chair, snoozing away the last bits of morning that he himself would like to be in bed for. Retrieving his cup of tea from where he set it on the end table, he places it near the foot of the chair for easy access.

“Tea?” John laughs. “Cats don’t drink tea, Sherlock.”

“How do you know?”

The response catches John off guard and he takes a sip of his own beverage before responding. “I suppose I don’t. Maybe he’ll love it. Yours has cream so I suppose that’ll be a treat. Cheers, mate.”

Sherlock nods smugly before turning and laying on the couch, wrapping his dressing gown over himself. “Give me just a moment, John.”

The detective is out before he can notice John’s scoff. “’Just a moment’,” he repeats. “More like an hour or two. But that’s okay, isn’t it, kitty? Just means I can go back to bed, too.”

When Sherlock opens his eyes again, he finds the flat empty. Both the cat and John are nowhere in sight. Of course, their similarities don’t stop there, but Sherlock pushes that thought aside. He makes to push himself up and realizes quickly that the cat has actually made itself comfortable atop his chest. His sudden increase in breathing apparently wakes the dozing tabby, who stretches lazily and puts one paw over Sherlock’s mouth.

“That’s gross,” Sherlock whispers. “You’ve no idea what sorts of germs and bacteria are on your little feet.” Despite his assertion, he pinches the paw in question between his thumb and forefinger and examines it gently. There’s a soft, warm scent in the cat’s fur, and he can’t help a small smile. “Maybe you’re okay,” he decides, rolling onto his side and pulling the cat against his chest.

When John wakes and reenters the living room, he finds Sherlock and the tabby fast asleep, curled gently around each other like the best of friends. He leans against the wall with his arms crossed, watching their gentle breathing for a moment as the noon sun begins pouring through their windows.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for my partner. :) He insisted that nose booping needed to happen, so here it is!


End file.
